nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Bittersweet familial ties

Because my boys are very basic little boys, running and playing until they sweat like a cold, icy glass of lemonade on the hottest Summer day, I make them shower daily. They take turns, one after the other, leaving wet towels draped everywhere and puddles on the floor, soggy bars of soap and streaks of shampoo all over the inside of the shower.
As is my habit I went into the bathroom, after they were finished and settled in front of a hot game of Splashdown on the PS2, to pick up and mop up and do the basic mommy work that comes with a mess.
And I found, in the steam on the mirror, a love note. "I love you, Mom."
I teared up almost instantly. How long before my sons are too "grown up" to leave me notes like that? How long before their mouths say the opposite?
I tucked that image into the deepest recesses of my heart, to be taken out in the dark days of their teenaged lives. A reminder of the sweetness and joy they've brought to my life. I never knew how much they'd break my heart only to put it back together in the best ways.
***
I'm torn tonight. As happens periodically, I'm feeling a strong need to cut ties with those that are supposed to be my "roots". My mother, my brothers, my father's family, even.
I've tried to maintain a healthy distance with my mother and siblings, tried to not cut them completely out of my life and the lives of my sons. I've always had that small voice in my head that said at some point, maybe they'll all come around and want to be a "real family". Maybe it's because I have a long shot idea of what a real family is, maybe I expect too much of them and myself, maybe it's because I have yet to accept that we'll never be close. I'm not sure why I haven't given up but I haven't. It's not that I don't love them, because I do. And sometimes I believe that they actually love me too.
I just don't always feel it. And I'm really tired of being disappointed, of feeling like there isn't anywhere I belong, of knowing that there really isn't anyone to depend on, ever.
And this isn't just a pity party, a poor me whining. I've even talked at length to my mother about it. She readily admits that she caters to the boys, has always been there for them to land on because she knows they need her. She figures I can take care of myself and therefore I am a little less important.
With my father's family, it's not an intended slight. They've all just got their own families, daughters and sons and grandchildren too. I'm just a niece that got shuffled a bit. I don't want to be a drag on anyone, don't want my family to feel sorry for me, don't want them to feel the need to occasionally compensate for my cruddy parents.
I moved back to this town because it's where my family is based, because I wanted my sons to know family, because I needed to be reminded of where I came from. One of the hard things is accepting that this is not really where I came from. It's what came before me. I don't really want to be reminded of where or what I came from.
I remind myself frequently that it's going to have to start with me, this close-knit family thing. My sons will feel loved and have a soft place to land, as will my grandchildren. I refuse to let them feel as lost as I sometimes feel, as root-less. And if I can keep that from happening in any way at all, I will.
So I'm left feeling the need to wean away from a situation that reminds me that I don't quite fit. That might be a case of "cutting off my nose to spite my face" or some other such cliche, but it's my urge at this point. I just don't know whether to follow it.
***
Happy Tuesday.
N.

8:32 p.m. - 2005-09-13

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